


Cupcake

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Birthday, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Mild Food Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:40:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25721461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Birthdays on the road suck.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 23
Kudos: 70





	Cupcake

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“On my _birthday_ ,” Noctis finishes under his breath, still horribly scandalized, even though it happened an hour ago and he knows there’s probably a good explanation. Of all his friends, all his _boyfriends_ , Ignis is the most fiercely loyal—the least likely to abandon him in his time of need. And yet, after a brutal day on the road full of monsters and bruises, that’s exactly what his advisor did. They paid for a motel room, crowded around the door, pushed inside, and then Ignis shoved Noctis right out again. When Gladiolus snickered, he was unceremoniously kicked on top of Noctis, and the door slammed in both of their faces.

Prompto’s still in that room. If Noctis gets back to find Ignis ravishing his best friend, there won’t be any forgiveness. He’ll call down the crystal’s power and fry the whole pit stop in his rage. He knew this was going to be a shit birthday. He knew he wasn’t going to get a cool party, a cake-filled feast, or a covert trip to the arcade, but he expected _at least_ a soft bed and a foursome. It’s gotten dark out, and he has neither. 

His shield lumbers back to the motel with him, just as sullen. To be fair, they did _try_ to mitigate their damages—they clambered back into the Regalia, put the hood up, and made out like teenagers. Then the attendant at the gas station knocked on the window and guiltily asked them to not fornicate in the parking lot. 

They snuck around the back of the food truck and felt each other up there, but just when Noctis finally managed to knock Gladio on his ass and climb onto his face, the truck pulled away. They relocated to the tight alley between the garage and a nondescript-other-building, but a cat wandered up to them, and Noctis just couldn’t bring himself to take his pants off in front of its wide, innocent eyes. Then a daemon emerged just beyond the outskirts, glowing purple on the horizon, and they realized how late it really was. Somewhere along the line, the day’s lingering boner died, and now Noctis is back to his usual state: desperately craving _sleep_.

He shoves Gladiolus’ thick bicep as they turn the corner, groaning, “Carry me the rest of the way.”

Gladiolus snorts. 

Noctis tries, “I command you to carry me.”

“Is that a royal order?”

“It’s a birthday order.”

“Pretty sure you only got a few hours left on that.”

Noctis groans, because it hits him then that he hasn’t gotten a single present. It’s to be expected, given that none of them have any money. What little they made on the day’s hunts all went to Ignis’ earlier ingredient shop. For all Noctis knows, Prompto’s enjoying those ingredients right now. It’s not exactly _surprising_ that Prompto’s getting preferential treatment, given that Noctis and Gladiolus had a fight in the car that lasted all afternoon and nearly made Ignis swerve off the road more than once. But that’s not Noctis’ fault. Gladiolus should’ve backed down. After all, _it’s Noctis’ birthday._

“Carry me.”

“No.”

They reach the motel room, and Noctis practically collapses against the door. The handle doesn’t move when he twists it. He lets his forehead thunk against the wood before he knocks. 

There’s a short pause, and then the door opens. The air is mildly cooler inside—a small blessing with how hot it is outside, even at night. He pushes past Ignis without a word. If nothing else, he can at least have a good birthday sleep. It’s a depressing thought, but at the same time, sleep is his second favourite thing. 

Prompto’s butt might be his favourite thing, which is why he ambles to a halt in the middle of the room. Gladiolus freezes next to him.

Ignis shuts the door. Prompto glances over his shoulder and grins sheepishly, lifting one hand to wave. He’s _naked_. He’s sprawled across the mattress on his stomach, a white washroom towel spread out beneath him, already stained with what looks like chocolate sauce. 

Prompto’s ass is dripping in it. Ignis’ portable stovetop is setup nearby, a pot sizzling there, the accompanying wooden spoon resting on the small of Prompto’s back. The melted chocolate paints all the way from his tailbone down to his upper thighs, evenly spread across both round cheeks and slicked between them—his pink balls are just barely visible underneath the moist glaze. He spreads his legs a smidgen wider when he sees Noctis, just enough for Noctis to get a good look at the strawberry shoved inside his asshole. 

“I wasn’t quite finished,” Ignis mutters, weaving around a speechless Noctis and Gladiolus on the way to his pot. He retrieves the wooden spoon to scrape out more chocolate and drizzle it over Prompto’s left thigh. “I’m afraid we couldn’t afford all the ingredients necessary for a cake, so I tried to think of a suitable alternative that wouldn’t be _too_ disappointing...”

“I said eating ass isn’t as good as a birthday cake,” Prompto throws in, shrugging his shoulders. “But what do I know.”

“Nothing,” Ignis answers, before swatting one of Prompto’s taut cheeks and earning a short yelp. “Now stop moving; it’s already getting on the towel, but you’ll make it worse.”

“Sorry...”

Noct is... still speechless. He watches Ignis use the spoon to scoop more chocolate into Prompto’s crack, where some of the sauce has stretched thin, revealing hints of shimmering peach flesh below. 

Gladiolus huffs indignantly, “Why wasn’t I allowed to be here for this?”

“You would’ve licked it off before Noctis got back,” Ignis counters. “And we could hardly send his highness out on his own...”

“I could’ve been the plate and Prompto could’ve been the bodyguard.”

Noctis weakly mumbles, “’Don’t need a bodyguard...”

Ignis reasons, “It would cost considerably more to cover your rather sizeable backside than Prompto’s.”

Prompto’s brows knit together. “Wait, you picked me because my butt’s smaller?”

Ignis sighs. “Well, I could hardly prepare myself, but does it really matter—”

Noctis cuts in, “Nope. This is good.” Prompto tentatively smiles. “Very good.” Those legs open a little wider. It’s a spectacular invitation. The strawberry seems to twitch. It’s a shame Noctis can’t see the furrowed pink brim around it—there’s too much chocolate coating obscuring the view. Fortunately, Noctis knows just how to get rid of that. He takes a step forward, ready to enjoy the best present he’s had since the limited edition Rinoa figurine Prompto gave him in highschool. 

Except Gladiolus steps in front of him and cries, “Wait!”

Noctis’ head snaps back. “What?”

“For starters,” Ignis jumps in, “I’m not finished—”

“The royal taste-tester better go first,” Gladiolus says over him. “Got to make sure the prince isn’t poisoned.”

“Hey, wait—!”

It’s too late. Gladiolus lunges in, grabbing both of Prompto’s trim ankles and yanking his legs wide open—Prompto yelps and grabs the bedspread while Gladiolus dives down, thrusting out his tongue. He licks a large, wet stripe up Prompto’s right ass cheek, leaving the skin exposed and glistening. 

Noctis has never felt so betrayed in his life. While he’s giving Gladiolus the _how could you defile my birthday present_ look, Ignis groans, “Gladio...!” and begins to ladle more chocolate over the area. Prompto reaches back as though to spread it around and help repair the damage, but Ignis smacks his hand away. Noctis doubts they’ll be able to keep the sheets clean anyway. They’ll definitely be paying extra for the room. 

It’s totally worth it. Shoving his traitorous shield aside, Noctis goes right for the strawberry. 

While he chews it out, Ignis chuckles, “Happy birthday, Noct,” and ruffles his hair before popping a second, even larger strawberry into Prompto’s ripe hole. 

All in all, it’s a surprisingly good birthday.


End file.
